Harry Potter OneShots
by Original Dark Angel
Summary: Random Harry Potter Oneshots. The Greatest Accomplishment, Fire and Ice, Masked, At the End of the Hallway, I Adopted Him, Mental Ward, The New Trio, Snape's Son, Mistletoe, Mistakes, Malfoy Moment, and Weasley Twin Justice.
1. The Greatest Accomplishment

**The Greatest Accomplishment**

**By: Original Dark Angel**

**A/N: This is a Post GOF fic. Draco never became a deatheater, but he never got along with Harry either. Roughly eighteen years in the future, both are fathers and a little bit out of touch despite the fact that their wives were best friends. **

"Dad! You got mail!" Haylie, a miniature version of her father with out of control black hair and bright green eyes, dashed up the stairs and burst into her father's study. "You got mail! This huge eagle came right up to the door and dropped it off. He flew away before I could pay him, but he was gorgeous. Can I have an eagle instead of an owl next year? PLEASE!"

Harry Potter ruffled his eleven-year-old daughter's hair, mussing it even further. "Your Hogwarts Letter said a toad, a cat, or an owl. No eagles. You don't want to get into trouble with your Professors the day you arrive, do you?"

"S'pose not, but after Hogwarts, I want an eagle."

"I'll write that down. Go help your mother with the twins."

"Paige and Piper should be big enough to pick up their own toys," the girl grumbled as she handed over the letter and obeyed.

"I'll remember that when your things need to be put away. Eleven is a lot older than two," he called after her. She may look like him but she sure sounded like Hermione, so eager to get to Hogwarts.

He sat down at his desk and dropped a pile of aurors papers on the floor to make room before opening the letter (His pile method of filing horrified Hermione, but as long as he could find things he could stave off her attempts to purchase a filing cabinet). A photo fell out with the letter. He didn't recognize the girl shaking Dumbledore's hand, so he referred to the letter, written in green ink, in an even hand.

_Potter,_

Enclosed is a photo of a beautiful seventeen-year-old girl on her graduation day, top of her class, co-captain and seeker for the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team. What does this have to do with you? Nothing really. But eighteen years ago, you told Ginny not to marry me, because I would never make anything of myself. Not even the death eaters would want me. According to you I would never accomplish anything worthwhile, because I was a sorry excuse of skin with no future. Thank goodness Ginny proved her brilliance by not listening to you. Do you see what this photo is now? Do you understand its importance? Not just to me, or you, but to the entire wizarding world? Probably not if you're as thick as I know you to be. So allow me to explain in simple words that even the most simple of baboons can understand. As I said, this girl graduated top of her class, played seeker for her house team, and was named co-captain last year. She plans to become a Healer and starts her official training next week. The girl in the photo is Irene Remembrance Weasley Malfoy and she is my greatest accomplishment. I'd have to say that is pretty worthwhile. Wouldn't you? Don't bother replying. I wouldn't want you to taint yourself.

_Draco Malfoy_

Harry picked up the photo that had fallen out of the envelope and studied the blond girl with laughing hazel eyes as she shook hands with Dumbledore, both Ginny and Malfoy beaming with pride in the background.

"Well, what do you know? He did it."


	2. Fire and Ice

**Fire and Ice**

**By: Original Dark Angel**

**Disclaimer: The characters and spells are property of JK Rowling.** **The plot is mine. Enjoy. Someone is sitting in the Library and drawing what he sees out the window. Someone finds the charred remains of the portrait and considers her options. MidHBP, I guess.**

She was standing out there by the lake. He could see her from the window-seat in the library that he was currently located. He was supposed to be working on a Transfiguration essay, but he found that watching her was much more satisfying, even calming. Her long red hair was lifted by the gentle breeze, and before he realized it, he was sketching her on a spare piece of parchment, going into great detail, relying on his photographic memory for what he couldn't see. After he sketched the mesmerizing twists of her hair, he drew the dark gray of her robes against the sapphire blue of the water, with her long red hair providing a bright contrast. She was fire really, even now at rest. Unconsciously, he added flames licking at her robes, and trailing from her hair. He added a reddish-orange sheen to her robes, getting drawn into the artwork now. A genuine smile tugged at his mouth as he thought about the qualities that made her a flaming beauty, a human phoenix. Her temper was one. Her need to care for everyone and everything drew him in. He hated that she loved Potter. It was just all wrong. She was a blazing wild fire completely uncontrollable. She deserved someone who could be her equal but opposite. Instead she chose Potter; a steadily burning flame himself that occasionally spurted out to burn something to the core. He couldn't help thinking that it should be him by her side instead of Potter. Looking around to make sure that there was no one nearby, he began a slight self-portrait. He used harsh gray and blue lines to produce a rough likeness of himself as if carved from a block of ice, and altered the part of the lake he was standing nearest to look frozen over. He stretched out a single hand to caress the fiery locks of hair, rendering it almost human and the hair simply red rather than on fire. He could imagine that this was real for a moment; that they were the equal paradox of fire and ice if only in his daydreams. He knew that he was the right one for her. He was truly Ice. She was the only one to melt through to his frozen heart. But it could never be. His father would kill them both. So no one must ever know. He could live with that. He could live with anything. She was gone now. Probably off to snog Harry Potter. He sketched a blazing heart of fire and a ring of ice, emblazoned with the pure message of the piece. "Fire and Ice." Then he added the tiniest bit of color to the image's white blonde hair. Satisfied with the image, he stared at it for a moment and then whispered, "Incendio." As the parchment went up in flame, he watched it like a self-conscious pyro. When he heard voices, he slammed it shut in his book to extinguish the blaze and leapt to his feet, striding past the crew of Gryffindor Fifth Years, ignoring the redhead.

She picked up a piece of charred parchment. The edges were gone, only the girl's face and tiny crest remained easily visible. She could just make out the outline of a male face chiseled from ice, and was instantly charmed. She looked up after the retreating blonde and smiled. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Maybe he just needed the other half of himself to solve the paradox. To be merely Fire and Ice. Something as simple as that.


	3. Masked

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Masked**

**By: Original Dark Angel**

The vision of Voldemort's activities flung Harry Potter to the floor from the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, and he hadn't even been whipped and beaten as badly as the robed figures in front of Voldemort this evening. The black robes were now stained red with blood, and Harry couldn't believe that they were still alive. The smaller one lost his hood and mask. Harry caught sight of pale blonde hair and pale features as the boy faded from consciousness. Then his attention was wrested back to Voldemort's angry words. "Your actions were in vain, Severus. I know you're a traitor. I know that you're only a half-blood. Yet you dare to come before me and plead for this boy's life? He failed me, Severus. You above all should know the cost of failure, and little Draco hasn't finished paying for it." Voldemort laughed evilly. "Your little boy, the one you treat as a son, never was of the quality required to become a deatheater, was he, Severus? Draco was far too afraid as a child to ever become worthy of a place at my side, and you knew it as well as I. That's why you drew him out, to protect him, to give him support, and the parental love he lacked. He didn't want money, or power, or status as a deatheater. All he ever wanted was to be just like you, Severus. And just like a little boy, he followed your steps to become a spy for Dumbledore. Aren't you proud?" The hysterical laughter and the look of anguish on Snape's face stayed with Harry as he was dragged out of the vision.

* * *

He looked up at his friends on either side of him, supporting his weight. It took a second to regain his balance and stand up on his own. Then he looked into their worried faces. "We have work to do." Both nodded, and disapparated to get their gear. Harry forced himself to walk over to the rest of the party. "Congratulations, Bill and Fleur. I hope you're very happy together. Please excuse Ron, Hermione, and me, Mrs. Weasley. Don't wait up for us. We'll be back late if not tomorrow." He nodded briefly to the woman who insisted on mothering them all. "Thank you for everything."

"Stay safe, Harry," she whispered, hugging him tightly.

"Always try, Mrs. Weasley." He strode a short distance away and apparated to the room he shared with Ron while at the Weasley residence, and shed his dress robes in favor of comfortable work ones. Then he joined Hermione and Ron in front of the house. "Ready?"

"Where to?"

"Hermione, go to my parents' house. Erect the necessary wards so we can use it for a safe house. We'll need any healing potions you can find, and probably a good deal of spells, but don't call Madame Pomfrey. Ron, come with me. We're going to the Riddle house on a rescue mission."

Ron paled, "Who do they have?"

"Snape and Draco. We were wrong. Let's go." He didn't wait for their reaction, but disapparated quickly to the graveyard below the house. When Ron was at his side, he started up the hill to the house.

"Harry! Are you going to just walk up to the front door and knock?" Ron hissed. "And I wouldn't mind an explanation as to why we're rescuing Snape and Malfoy." The disgust in his voice was so thick that Harry turned to face him.

"We were wrong. And there's no one to stop us from walking in. Everyone is having fun inside. Voldemort always retires and gives his deatheaters twenty minutes of fun, after he breaks the victim's spirit. I'll knock out the lights with the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and you hit the mass stun spell. Grab Snape and activate your port-key. I'll get Draco." Ron nodded and followed him in. One thing had changed since the night on the tower. Ron and Hermione both took his orders whether they liked them or not. Harry knew he could depend on them to do their job.

Getting inside was despicably easy, and he slipped into the basement without attracting any attention. Snape was currently chained to a wall, while Draco still lay prone before Voldemort, shivering under the current frost curse. Harry reached out and grabbed Ron's shoulder. "Now." As darkness filled the room, he leapt off the staircase rolling in midair until he hit the basement floor in the middle of the deatheaters. He could only see because of the light filled sphere that Hermione had enchanted. He heard Ron shout the spell, but only about half the deatheaters had been affected. He heard a muttered "Avada Kedavra," and a body hit the floor two feet to his left. Narcissa Malfoy had taken the shot intended for him. He didn't stop to puzzle out her reasons. He ducked under a deatheater's outstretched fingers, and caught hold of Draco's robes. "GODRIC GRYFFINDOR!" he roared to activate the port-key. An answering roar from across the room, reassured him that Ron had succeeded a split second before he disappeared.

* * *

They reappeared in the garden of his parent's house on Godric's Hollow. Harry was never more grateful that Remus Lupin had rebuilt the house, than when he hefted Draco's limp form over his shoulder and headed for the back steps. Ron was assisting Snape across the yard, but Harry didn't wait for them. There were crystals of ice on the other kid's skin and his lips were blue. They had to work quickly.

Hermione met him at the door. "Downstairs bedroom. Beds are set up. I'll help Ron."

Harry nodded and headed down the hall, eager to drop the heavy boy into a bed before his knees gave out. The boy's head lolled back, and Harry realized that Draco was once more unconscious. He covered the boy with a light blanket, and looked up as Snape entered the room, unusually silent. The man heaved a deep sigh of relief when he saw Draco's chest rise and fall. Harry looked up at him. "I will forgive you, but I will never forget."

"Don't deserve it, and wouldn't ask. The chair beside Draco, Weasley." Ron ignored him and dumped him on the spare bed. "Please, Draco-"

"We'll care for him," Ron said brusquely. "You're of no use, when you're almost as bad. Stay in bed or I'll tie you down." He joined Harry at Draco's bed. "What happened to him?"

"Frost spell, I think," Harry frowned. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"It's a potion. Brumalise. It will freeze him from the inside out," the other patient spoke up, supporting himself on his unbroken arm so he could see the boy. "I don't have the antidote, and unless you have a unicorn horn and four phoenix tears you can't brew it."

Hermione nodded. "We'll have to purge his system. Ron, build up the fire, and keep a heat spell on him. I had better deal with some of his injuries before we try that or it could kill him. Harry, see if you can heal Snape. Skel-grow is on the table for that hand. Those breaks won't heal without causing deformity."

They worked furiously on the pair for twenty minutes. They went through the stock of blood replenishing potions and had to resort to muggle stitches for the worst of Snape's cuts. Hermione had to keep pausing and utter a second heat spell to keep the potion from killing Draco, before she could finish healing the worst of the boy's of the injuries. Hermione finally splinted Draco's right wrist, which was broken in two places. "I don't dare give him bone mend. Blood replenisher is instantaneous. Bone mend will just come up with the potions they used to torture him. Good job, Harry. A generic purgative is on the bathroom counter. Wake him. You'll have to support him."

Harry nodded, and with Ron's help lifted Draco from the bed for the short distance to the bathroom. "_Enervate._" The boy awoke, silver eyes looking around him wildly. "Sorry, Malfoy, but you have to drink this." He administered the dose of purgative and caught the boy as he sank to his knees. "Go back and help, Mione. I've got this." He placed one hand under Draco's forehead and used his other arm to hold the boy's body upright as Draco emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He didn't stop throwing up until the bile was tinged with traces of blood. Harry was positive that that was very bad. He lifted Draco to his feet again, and shouldering most of the other boy's weight. "Mione, we have a problem. He threw up blood."

"This is a healing accelerant. It will knock him out for a couple of hours, but if we're lucky it will heal any internal injuries by the time he wakes up." Hermione poured it down the boy's throat. "I had to slip dreamless sleep into Snape's drink. He wouldn't shut up about needing to help Draco. He'll be out for at least twelve hours. Now that they are as stable as we can achieve, will you please tell Ron and me why we're helping them?"

"We were wrong. Snape was our spy, but Voldemort caught him. I don't know what his reasoning for killing Dumbledore was, but I'm assuming it was to protect Draco." He looked away. "You didn't see the look on his face when Voldemort taunted him with Draco's life. Pure anguish."

"He's an actor, Harry. A good one."

"I've seen that look before, Hermione. When Mrs. Weasley told Sirius that I wasn't James and never would be and that it was unfair to ask it of me. Sirius knew that he had made a bad decision with harmful consequences for me, even if I didn't realize it. In his mind, he had been the cause of a deep pain that I couldn't articulate but he could see. All Draco ever wanted was to make Snape proud, not his father, but Snape. He wanted to be Snape, spy on Voldemort, and he almost died with Snape because of it. That hit Snape as hard as Mrs. Weasley's comment hit Sirius. You can't fake that emotion, and there is no mask to hide it. It's love that only a father can feel." With a sigh, Harry stood. "I'm going to bed. I can get at least two or three hours of sleep, before Draco wakes."

* * *

Harry was roughly shaken awake by Ron. "Sorry mate. Hermione said to get you up quick."

Harry sat up and reached for his glasses. Muffling a yawn he followed Ron downstairs and joined Hermione in the sick room. "I had to knock Snape out again. Draco never woke up. You've been asleep for twelve hours, and so has Draco."

"That wasn't the idea behind the potion was it?" Harry scowled. "Did you try _Enervate_?"

"I've tried everything. He's not really asleep. It's like some sort of coma or trance, but I can't break him out of it. Snape tried to get inside of his mind when he was awake, but he couldn't get past the shield. I had to stun him to keep him from making things any worse. But Snape seemed to think that Draco retreated into his mind, and he started muttering nonsense about obstinate children."

Harry sighed. "Then I'll have to go after him."

"Harry, you don't know how to do that! You could get lost inside his head."

"I've read about it, and it's Malfoy. He's not much smarter than Crabbe and Goyle. Look, grab an extra chair and watch. If I'm not out by two-no, give me three-hours, stun me. That will bring me to myself. Then you can enervate me."

"Will it really take you three hours?"

"Breaking the shields will be the hardest part, trust me. After that, it's like sitting in a movie theater and watching a slide show. I can handle it. Dumbledore taught me a lot about Occlumency and Legilimency." Harry sat down in the chair by Draco's bed, and opened the boy's eyes. He stared deeply and muttered, "Legilimens."

* * *

Harry found himself in front of the locked gate that Dumbledore had described to him at one of his lessons last year. But instead of Draco behind the gate, there was a small blonde boy who couldn't possibly be over four years old. Harry knelt on one knee so he was on the child's level. He hissed sharply, when he realized what he had thought to be shadows, were actually dark bruises around the boy's eye. The child recoiled from him sharply, and he extended a hand through the gate to take the child's. "Who are you?"

The child sniffled. "Aidan."

"What are you doing in Draco's mind?"

"I live here. Are you a grown up? Grown ups aren't allowed in."

"Well, I'm not technically a grown up yet. Will you let me in?" He was shocked when the doorway opened up instantaneously. From what he had read, it was almost impossible to weaken mind shields of individuals trapped in their minds. Hesitantly he entered the gate, unsurprised when it slammed behind him. He sat on the rocks next to Aidan. "Who gave you that shiner, Aidan?"

The boy leaned in close and whispered, "It's a secret." The boy stared at him openly, so Harry did the same. Aidan wore black pants, and an oversized blue and gold coat like some sort of military officer would own, but he was barefoot, and dirty. After a while, the little boy seemed to grow bored and stood up again apparently in the mood to play. All along the gate were various masks of Draco's expressions, and a single deatheater's mask. Aidan tried them all on, one at a time. It took him a while to reach the last mask, but Harry grabbed the deatheater's mask off of him immediately. "Who are you?"

"Harry Potter."

The boy nodded, and darted off. "Catch me if you can!"

"Aidan, wait!" Harry stood and followed the boy down the hill and looked around him in shock. This wasn't the movie theater, Dumbledore described. This was a giant maze with thick stone walls, overgrown with dark green vines and scarlet roses. From where he stood, he could see dark black clouds obscuring parts of the maze, but once you entered the maze, you wouldn't see them until it was too late. Aidan was heading straight towards the first one. "Aidan! Stop!" The little boy paid no heed, and swearing, Harry took off after him. As he ran, he saw odd things painted on the wall. He saw Draco kneeling in front of the toilet, heaving, while Harry, himself, held the blonde boy up. The next wall depicted Hermione with one hand on Draco's forehead. There was a wall with the image of Draco in the Potter's garden, and then ahead of him was the storm cloud. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into it, thinking nothing could be worse than the Third Task Maze.

He was greeted by the sound of absolute silence, broken only by sobs and the occasional sarcastic remark by Voldemort. The problem with the scene was the blonde boy lying on the ground screaming his head off, but under the silencing charm no sound was heard. Draco writhed under the cruciatus curse, but Harry knew that this was a memory and he could do nothing here. He followed the sound of the sobs and realized that Aidan was here watching. The child cowered under a table a few feet away from him, and Harry crawled under after him. A child should not have to watch something like this. "Come here, Aidan. Don't watch this. You don't need to see something this awful." He lifted Aidan off the floor and held onto him tightly. The little boy buried his face in Harry's shirt until the image disappeared around them.

When he looked up the tears had disappeared. Squirming to be put down, Aidan started to run off. "Race you!"

Harry grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, no you don't. Stay with me this time." Aidan smiled up at him cheerfully and grabbed Harry's arm, skipping, and swinging as he traveled. Harry looked at the walls again. He saw Snape holding Draco while the boy cried. He saw Snape shield Draco with his own body from the stunner that Harry had sent after them as they fled Hogwarts. They turned a corner and looked at another cloud. Aidan hid behind his legs. "Come on, Aidan. You don't have to watch." The boy didn't move and he turned back. "Would you like me to take you . . . back?" He stared at the solid brick wall behind him. "What happened?"

"I don't need to remember those anymore," Aidan whispered with tear-filled eyes. He reached up, and Harry picked him up, before stepping once more into a storm cloud.

This was a memory that Harry hated as much as Draco. This was the night on the tower, and from the way Aidan looked up at him sadly, he just knew that they boy had seen this many times before, but that didn't stop him from shielding the child's eyes as the scene played out. This time Harry couldn't look away from the terrify scene before him to watch Dumbledore fall. He could only see Draco trembling and Snape's comforting caress of Draco's hair before he bodily moved the boy out of harm's way, and how he grasped Draco to guide him down the stairs. This time he saw Draco crying as the old man was murdered. As Snape dissolved the barrier to allow Draco through (They had been wrong. Draco never had the Dark Mark.), the image dissolved around him, and he now held a sleeping Aidan.

He didn't wake the boy, but just continued through the maze. He followed the images like a map, avoiding blank walls that lead to dead ends and monsters. He saw Snape sitting next to Draco in the Hospital Wing after the bathroom incident, saw Narcissa Malfoy talking to her son, saw Draco's date with Pansy at the Yule Ball (He couldn't help sniggering.), and the World Cup where his father had ruffled his hair when Ireland won. Harry had the feeling that this was the most affection Lucius Malfoy ever showed to his son. He stepped into a tiny storm cloud and watched Hermione punch Malfoy. This time he saw Draco trying to hold back tears, and shrinking away from her in fear. He had seen that evasiveness before. He watched Draco get beaten after Second Year and held Aidan all the tighter as Lucius spelled the Cruciatus Curse on his twelve-year-old son. The most surprising storm cloud was the first day of Hogwarts. When Draco offered his hand to Harry, and the other boy didn't take it, Aidan turned around and whispered, "Why can't they be friends?" Harry didn't have an answer for him. He knew now, exactly who Aidan was, and why Draco's mind was a tangled maze. As they continued on, the maze walled in behind them. Aidan kept turning around to make sure that it was "Closing this time," because he "Didn't want to come back again." Harry noticed Aidan grew less secretive and more innocent as they went. He looked up at the roses on the walls and saw that they were paler than the scarlet they had started out seeing, now a soft pink.

The next storm cloud made Aidan tremble harder than ever, but he wouldn't let Harry pick him up. Harry watched in shock as Aidan stepped into the little boy on the stairs.

Draco ran up the stairs and crashed into his father. When Lucius dropped the crystal ball he was holding, he backhanded the little boy. Harry saw the shock in the child's eyes and knew that this was when the beatings started. Lucius swore when he saw the darkening bruise, and then the doorbell rang. Draco opened his mouth and sobbed "Uncle Sev." Lucius clapped his hand over the little boy's mouth.

"If you tell an adult about this, _especially_ your Uncle Sev, I'll kill you and your mother," he hissed into the little boy's ear. Draco nodded frantically. He was pushed away from his father roughly, as Severus Snape climbed the stairs. "Take a look at our young rapscallion, Severus. Went running into a hall table and earned himself his first shiner."

Snape picked up Draco and hugged him. "Be more careful when you play, Aidan." Harry saw the hope in the child's eyes, the hope that a trusted adult would help him, die. Just like Harry's hopes had died time after time that someone would take him away from the Dursleys. This was worse though. This little boy was beaten and by a parent.

Lucius scowled. "Must you call him by that ridiculous pet name, Severus? I named the boy Draconis for a reason. I expect him to be called by the correct appellation. Go back to Dobby and your nursery, Draco!"

Draco ran off and ducked into a bathroom. He climbed up onto the counter and stared in the mirror. Slowly a foggy version of Aidan stepped out of the boy. "I'm going to be a good boy," the solid Draco murmured. "I'll be Draco Malfoy, like Father wants me to be. He'll love me too much to hit me again." The boy stuck his chin up and scowled in a remarkable imitation of Snape. "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Draconis Julian Malfoy." The image faded as Aidan became more solid. But Draco didn't disappear. He just stared into his mirror double of Aidan.

"I don't need a shield any more, Draco. Uncle Harry closed the maze. It's only one hallway left until I get out." Aidan threw his arms around Draco and in a flash of light only one little blonde boy stood in front of him. "Let's go, Uncle Harry!"

Harry started after him, but looking back he realized that this storm cloud hadn't disappeared like the other ones had, but reappeared behind them. And the wall no longer closed as they moved. "Aidan, you have to tell Uncle Sev that your father hit you."

Aidan stopped short. "I'm not allowed to tell," he whispered. "Mother."

"Aidan, your mother died to save you. You can't remember it anymore, but she's not going to be there when you wake up. Lucius Malfoy can't hurt her, and I promise that he will never lay a hand on you again. You need to tell your Uncle Sev."

"No! That's the rules! Never ever tell or you will never ever leave."

"Don't you see, Aidan? That's what started this whole thing. Lucius hit you and you didn't tell anyone. You split yourself somehow to shield you from what happens in the real world. That's why your mind is a maze. You can't organize your thoughts and memories because you're too young. You're still four years old! If you don't tell Snape than this whole cycle will happen again."

"Why did he believe Father? Why didn't he stop him? He was s'posed to take care of me."

"He will. You just have to tell him, so that he knows, Aidan. Come on, I know you can tell him. I'll take you to him, Aidan, but you have to tell him on your own." Harry waited for Aidan to nod very slowly and reach out to take his hand. Then he picked up the little boy and ran past white roses to the exit. He was back on the hill again, Aidan had returned to slumber, and as Harry ran toward the gate, it sprang open.

* * *

Harry fell into his own mind hard, and broke eye contact with Draco-no, not Draco. He was Aidan really.

"Harry!" Hermione squeezed him tightly around his neck. "I know that you said to wait for three hours, but I almost stunned you at two and a half. I was so worried. Did it work?"

"Not the way I thought it would, but yeah. He's sleeping naturally. Can you wake up Snape now?"

It took a few seconds for the man to fully realize where he was and then he tried violently to get to his child. Harry grasped his good arm and hauled him back into bed. "Hold still. I need to explain a few things to you. Then I need you to deage Draco until he's four." This got a violent reaction from Snape that required both Ron and Harry to hold him down. "Look, his mind is already deaged, Snape. He did it himself in his mind. That's why you couldn't get in. No grown-ups allowed. But listen to me! You used to call Draco, Aidan. Do you remember when he stopped answering to it? Something big happened. Something that you should have seen, but you didn't look close enough at. He sort of split himself into two, kind of like Muggle MPD. Aidan stayed buried under a shield he constructed, a mask if you will, that of the rude and stuck-up Draco Malfoy. I followed Aidan through all of those memories, and he closed off everything after a certain point. He needs to tell you something. It won't make sense coming from almost seventeen-year-old Draco. Please trust me."

Snape reluctantly reached for Hermione's offered wand and chanted a quick incantation. Draco shrunk into the little boy Harry had met during his trip into Draco's mind, and the shiner reappeared over his eye, although the broken wrist didn't heal. "_Enervate._"

The little boy looked up startled. Harry sat on his bed and helped him sit up. "You probably don't remember me, but I watched out for you for awhile, Aidan. I know that you need to tell your Uncle Sev something," Harry said calmly, ignoring Ron's muffled shout of laughter. "You're safe, I promise."

The four year old moved onto Snape's bed. "Uncle Sev? I didn't run into a table. Father hit me." Snape stared at the boy for a moment and hugged him close. "Don't worry, Aidan. I'll find you a different guardian. You never have to see that man again. If you had just told me right away, I would have taken you away."

"I'm telling you now."

"Ron, Hermione, could you take Aidan out to the kitchen or something? I need to talk with Snape."

Ron nodded, and scooped up the kid. "That's quite a shiner, kid. Let's get you some ice for that." Hermione followed them out staring after Ron and Aidan the whole time.

Harry turned back to Snape. "I believe that Dumbledore was right to trust you, and that he even gave you permission to kill him to save Draco. But the rest of the order doesn't and you can't go back to Voldemort. You're wanted by both sides now. You need to go into hiding, but you can't take Aidan with you. He simply won't be safe with the finest of the order and deatheaters hunting you down. We'd have to find the right guardians for him, but that shouldn't take too long considering how angelic he seems."

"You want to take him."

Harry shook his head. "I don't care if he calls me Uncle Harry like he did in the maze, but I can't claim him as mine. Voldemort would hunt him down just for being my adopted son. Besides I'm not of legal age, and since I broke it off with Ginny, there would be no one to take care of him very well."

Snape nodded. "Three excellent mature reasons, Mr. Potter. I'm surprised, but pleased. In that event, I think that you should convince your friends to take in my godson."

"Ron and Hermione?"

"I do believe that they are both of legal age, considering a serious relationship, incorruptible members of the light side, and what better way to convince them to play a low key role in the war or to even stay out of it altogether, then to hand them the responsibilities of a four-year-old son. Miss Granger is quite intelligent, and Mr. Weasley has experience with children and a mother who would gladly baby-sit."

Harry regarded his ex-professor with a raised eyebrow. "You're just getting back at Hermione for always being right and Ron for falling asleep in class."

"The amusement factor is next on my list of reasons, true, but I most certainly do not want the werewolf and the clumsy auror to raise Aidan, and there are no other valid options."

Harry tried not to grin. "It couldn't hurt to ask, and watching Ron turn as red as his hair is always entertaining."

* * *

Harry stood in the doorway watching Hermione finish feeding Draco hot tomato soup, and Ron stealing crackers from the little boy's plate, every time Hermione turned away to Aidan's amusement. Aidan had to sit in Ron's lap in order to reach the table. "Looks like you're all having great fun." He got a cheerful wave from Aidan who continued to eat, but Ron was distracted by Hermione slapping his hand when she realized where all of the crackers were going.

"Come on, Aidan. It's getting very late, and little boys should be in bed," Hermione informed him, lifting the boy off of Ron's lap and settling him on her hip. "Let's go find you something to sleep in."

Harry sat across from Ron. "Isn't so bad when he's four is he?"

Ron snorted. "Yeah. Almost cute enough to get away with everything."

"You seem to be getting along with him great. So does Hermione."

"He isn't a prat yet. Probably will be after Snape makes him seventeen again."

"Snape isn't going to do that. Aidan only has his memories up to the age of four and a half. Everything else was lost. He won't ever be the Draco Malfoy we knew and didn't love. Snape's looking for a guardian for the boy."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you and Hermione would take him in?"

Ron's eyes bugged out. "Us? Raise Malfoy? Have you gone nuts, Harry?"

"He's not a Malfoy. He won't be if you adopt him. He'll grow up a Weasley. Might still be a Slytherin, the little scamp is sharp as a tack, but he could be different if you give him a chance. Think about it. Give me an answer in the morning."

"It will be the same as now. A big fat no."

"Think about it."

* * *

Ron woke up when the little boy started whimpering. Harry was sleeping the sleep of the dead after his little field trip into Malfoy's brain, and he couldn't expect Hermione across the hall to hear him. He crawled out of bed and picked up the kid. "It's okay, Aidan. It's just a nightmare." The child quieted, and Ron rubbed his back comfortingly, walking back and forth to soothe Aidan. When he felt the head rest against his shoulder, he returned to the bed and laid the boy on it, covering him with the throw that he had kicked off during the night. "Go to sleep, Aidan."

"Good night, Daddy," came the sleepy reply.

Ron shook his head, but didn't correct him. It was too early to care and his answer wasn't going to change.

* * *

"Aidan Severus Black. It's a good false name," the man smirked. "No one would ever connect it to the infamous Draconis Julian Malfoy."

"Aidan Severus Black becomes Aidan Severus Weasley after the adoption is finalized," Ron argued. "Make the middle name a little more common than Severus, so I don't end up trying to explain the freaky coincidence to McGonagall."

"Aidan Zachary Weasley," Hermione suggested. "That's cute and common."

Of course Snape groused about it, but that's what the papers ended up saying. The uncontested guardians of Aidan Zachary Black were Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jane Granger. From where the four year old slept on Hermione's lap, it was a perfect arrangement.

"Don't worry so much," Ron teased the old man. "You got him to this age in one piece. Hermione will make sure that he survives to be seventeen in one piece."

"If he survives to be seventeen," the man retorted before closing his suitcase and handing the papers to Ron. "If anything happens to Aidan, I will use your tongue in my potions."

"I don't intend to let anything happen to him," Ron glared.

"Good. I'll see you when the war is over."

"If it's ever over," Hermione said quietly looking over to wear Harry sat reading the Dailey Prophet.

Aidan woke up and jumped off her lap. "Uncle Harry, whatcha reading?"

"Deatheaters Unmasked."

Aidan looked at the pictures and frowned. "That's not right. Uncle Sev and Draco are both wearing their masks."

Harry laughed, "Try telling that one to the Wizarding World, kid. They don't understand the concept of Masked so well."

"I'll say."

* * *

**Epilogue:**

"Trick or Treat!"

Molly Weasley smiled at her oldest grandchild as he held out his pillowcase for a share of the candy. "Chocolate Frogs or Pumpkin Pasties, Aidan, sweetheart."

"Chocolate Frogs, Gramma. But Alexa and Arliss can only have Pumpkin Pasties." Ten year old, Aidan Weasley stood on her porch clutching two-year-old Arliss' hand. His five-year-old sister Alexa stood just in front of him. She could see Ron at the end of the sidewalk with a heavy-duty muggle flashlight.

"Where is your mask, Aidan?" the old woman teased, petting Arliss' head. Under the teddy bear costume, he had red hair like his father, same as Alexa in her little fairy costume. Aidan's angelic blonde hair hung free.

"I don't need a mask. I'm Aidan," he told her cheerfully, as he informed her every year, since Ron had first brought home the four year old clinging tightly to his neck on Halloween, and explained that he and Hermione had adopted the child. The Weasley clan didn't know what to make of the event, but six years later, Aidan was firmly one of their own. The special one with angelic blonde hair in the mixture of redheads who had every uncle twisted around his little finger, and every aunt had to spoil him.

"I know," Molly said fondly. "Good luck with your candy hunt. Tell your parents that we expect you all to come to dinner tomorrow."

"I will. Bye, Gramma!" he shouted over his shoulder as he ran down the sidewalk to share his loot with his father, the two smaller children following behind.

"Good bye, Aidan."

**A/N: This piece was actually inspired by a single image from one of the Goo Goo Dolls videos, of a little blonde boy reaching out to take someone's hand. I just knew that the image would fit Draco, although I had to work out a way for him to regain his childhood in order for it to work.**


	4. At the End of the Hallway

**A/N: Seventeen years after the final battle . . . canon up through "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince." Assumes Draco redeems himself, not a romance, but Draco and Ginny are married in this. Premise: Hermione and Draco interact for an hour every day before tea time. Time hasn't changed enough.**

**Disclaimer: JKR's Universe. I'm playing with it.**

**Warnings: Character Death**

"There's a door at the end of the hallway."

Draco looked up at Granger's sudden declaration. It hadn't made any sense coming from his quiet companion. For one thing, they were outside. For another it sounded strangely like the blasted optimism spouted by the crackpot of a headmaster they had both suffered under rather than the straightforward and common sense Gryffindor that Draco had become acquainted with after the war.

"Come again?"

"The hallway . . . in the Department of Mysteries . . . there's a door at the end of it."

"What of it?"

Granger sat still in her garden chair, a large textbook open in her lap and a dozing child in the cradle at her feet. "Inside the door is a room and one end is curtained off with a veil. That's where they are . . . Ron . . . and the real Harry."

Draco stood quickly, concerned that the woman was ill or had fallen partially asleep. "Potter is in St. Mungos, Granger. You know that." Hermione waved him off, smiling at what she probably viewed as concern for her. It certainly wasn't; it was concern for himself if Ginny discovered that Draco had allowed something to befall her friend and sister-in-law. "Don't spout off nonsense if you don't intend to explain it," he sulked.

"It isn't nonsense," Granger sniffed. "For all the brilliance you claim to have, you're terribly close-minded. I was too once. Luna drove me nutters every time she opened her mouth."

"Luvgood shared that gift with Potter," Draco muttered from where he played Wizard's Chess with a tiny redhead fully absorbed in the game and ignoring the adults' conversation. "Now are you going to explain that concept or let Leoni beat me at chess in peace?"

"When we all went to the Department of Mysteries . . . Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, and I . . . there was a door that Harry had been dreaming about. And inside of it was a veil, not a prophecy. I looked at the memories years later. The doors were close but not the same. Sirius was meant to fall through the veil."

"Divination is utter rubbish."

"It is. But feelings aren't." Granger sighed, gazing out over the garden, one hand hanging over the edge of the chair to stroke the cheek of a sleeping fair-haired child. "I'm so very glad Ginny found the real you."

Draco sniffed. "Little Weaslette has more good sense than the rest of you combined."

Granger grinned. "Bet you don't call her that to her face anymore."

"I prefer not to have my own wife poison me."

"Smart man after all," Granger chuckled. "Anyway, my theory is one of Luna's. Harry shared it. They're all waiting for us beyond the veil. Everyone who's died. They're waiting for us to join them and they're being awfully patient about it."

Draco shuddered. "I don't like that theory. I'd rather that my afterlife be free of Dark Lords and maniac ministry officials. But continue. What does this veil have to do with right now?"

Granger lifted her book. It wasn't a textbook after all, just a very thick leather bound story book. "Have you ever read Muggle literature, Draco?"

"Ginny dragged me through some Shakespeare. Wasn't particularly pleasant."

"Well, a common theme is the trio of best friends. The Golden Trio certainly fits," she remarked ruefully. "The best friend dies for the hero. The hero dies for the world. And the tragic love interest of either that completes the three pines for them the rest of her life until she dies from grief."

"You're not dying from grief, Granger," Draco snorted. "You're dying from a poison that you took willingly to save Longbottom. And he's working himself to death trying to cure you. A fine pair you make. You're guilty over Weasley. Longbottom's guilty over you."

"You're pessimistic and antisocial, Draco Malfoy. Did anyone ever tell you that?"

"It was your sunny little comment that got us into this conversation, Granger. And before I forget, you're not allowed to die. It'd upset Ginny."

"I'll be sure to explain that to the Grim Reaper when he shows up. I'm sure it'll do a world of good." Hermione shook her head and closed the book. "Anyway, you're not listening. I want to see the curtain. I want to study it and prove my theory."

"What part of Unspeakable do you not understand?" Draco groaned. "My department's been studying that relic for ages and we haven't figured it out yet, Granger. What makes you think a crippled invalid of a mudblood is going to pull it off?"

Leoni scowled at him from across the board. "Don't be mean, Daddy. And don't use bad words." She moved her queen and stuck out her chin stubbornly. "Checkmate."

Draco sulked and Leoni crawled into Hermione's lap. "Don't worry, Aunt Hermione. Daddy's just cranky."

"I noticed that seventeen years ago, sweetheart. But it's nearly tea time. You had better run along." Leoni hugged her and disappeared indoors. Draco gave up on the traitorous chess board and scooped up his son.

"I'll be back for you in a moment."

"You could just levitate me."

Draco rolled his eyes. "See! Only a mudblood would consider such an undignified mode of travel."

"And only a reluctant gentleman would carry in the poor crippled invalid of a mudblood day after day for ten years. Thank you, Draco."

* * *

Hermione watched the scowling Slytherin return to the house and looked out over the garden one last time, waving to the ghosts that she sometimes saw under the oak tree near the fence. One a gangly tall boy with red hair and freckles, about eleven, and his counterpart, a short boy with messy black hair and eyes the same green as a killing curse.

* * *

That night, Hermione Granger lost the battle for her life started ten years earlier when she was poisoned by Lucius Malfoy in Neville Longbottom's stead. The Monday after the funeral, Draco Malfoy turned in a report to his superior and led a team to actively study the veil. On the third anniversary of the death of the last member of the Golden Trio, he proved her theory correct, burned all the research and returned home to his wife and children. If he ever saw the trio of ghosts in his back garden, Draco never mentioned it.

**Finite.**


	5. I Adopted Him

**A/N: This was on my hpff . com site in script format for awhile. When the site went haywire and I couldn't get anything done, I started moving everything to here and this one got forgotten. Rewritten into a third person form rather than a script. Had a story behind it in my head, but lost it. Think it's interesting anyway.**

**Disclaimer: JKR's universe. I'm messing with the stars.**

**IMPORTANT NOTE: Please check my bio page for more updates, detailed accounts of what I'm working on and my reasoning for the long unannounced hiatus, I accidentally took.**

"I adopted him."

There was complete silence for a long moment. Then one of the men collapsed in bitter laughter, a teacup rattling against it's saucer.

"I'm serious, Father. Please try to control yourself until I have finished," the first man remonstrated as annoyance slipped into his voice.

"I do apologize, son, but I misheard what you said and couldn't keep from laughing at what I thought I heard."

"I assure you that your hearing is sound, Father. I did adopt the boy."

The tea table crashes to the floor as the older man leaps to his feet, cane hitting the floor with a dull thump. "No!"

"Yes."

"I know that I spoiled you as a child, but pulling such a joke on such an old man is bad form."

The younger man repaired the tea set with a flick of his wand and reassembled the table setting quietly. "That is why I'm not joking."

"My son, please, you can not seriously tell me that you . . . you . . . you adopted that publicity magnet. That hideous symbol of everything I tried to fight. He is our enemy's son.

A fair eyebrow is raised and a smirk reminiscent of a past potions-master is made evident. "Of course I did. I couldn't leave him in those nasty muggle's hands. He might have turned out exactly like his father."

"And here with you, he won't? I've seen his picture in the prophet. Spitting image of the bloody-"

"Don't swear. My son might overhear you. It is very difficult to persuade a four year old not to copy everything he hears."

"YOUR SON! Now see here, we are of a proud family line. We can't just adopt ragamuffin's of questionable blood."

The younger man calmly refills the teacups, completely unconcerned with the rapidly reddening countenance of his companion. "He is now legally of my blood."

The older man is defeated, but not going down without a fight "This will end badly. Just you wait and see."

"Don't worry, father. I'll have the house-elf bring him here and you will see for yourself that he is a perfect heir."

The older man slammed his tea cup against the saucer causing a hairline crack along the handle. "Heir? Did you even examine the boy before bringing him here?"

"Of course. I was in charge of checking on him periodically, him and twenty other unfortunate children. He stood out for his manners, angelic appearance, and power. I couldn't leave him with those horrible people after the third visit. My superior was most displeased when I returned to the ministry with the boy."

"A smart boy like you could have been minister of magic," the doting father's disgruntled tone was revealed. "You had to settle for a job in the Protection of Parentless Children department."

"I didn't settle for anything. I wouldn't trade my job for anything in the world."

"Fool."

The door opens and a young boy enters the room excitedly. "Ah, Jamie, here you are. What were you doing in the nursery today?"

"I was playing with the snitch. I caught it. Look!"

"Well done. You may be the seeker for your house team someday. Now come here. I have someone that I would like you to meet. This here is my father . . . Jamie?"

"Hello, sir."

"He's small, scrawny too. Muggles not feed him properly?"

"I'm afraid not. Come here, Jamie."

The older man suddenly becomes very excited. "It's true then. The curse continued through the line. I can see the scar. Wouldn't the Dark Lord be pleased to know that I can finish his work?"

His son didn't answer, just cocked his head as the doors to the manor were breached. "That would be the aurors. Have a pleasant stay in Azkaban, father."

"You betrayed me."

"No, father. You betrayed me. The prophet announced the adoption several days ago. This act was ridiculous. The war is over. I fought for the light. You fought for the dark. It's over now. I never want to hear from you again."

"You will pay."

"Oh, knock it off, you filthy snake," Moody complains. "SILENCIO. Take him now, Tonks, Shacklebolt. Have a pleasant day, sir. I'm glad you found another dad, Jamie. I fought next to him in the Final Battle. He's a good man, even if he was a rotten little kid."

"Thank you, Moody. That comment won't be begging explanations at all."

"Least I could do. Must say that headline is the best shocker the Daily Prophet's had since Potter died taking out Voldemort." Moody chuckled and quoted Rita Skeeter. "Draco Malfoy adopts James Potter, son of the Boy-Who-Lived."

**Finite.**


	6. Mental Ward

**A/N: AU . . . or not. You can decide. Is Ron mental or is it all a trick?**

**Disclaimer: Shall I sing it for you? (do-ra-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do) Not mine. Not mine. Harry Potter isn't mine. Not mine. Not mine.**

**Warnings: Character death . . . eh . . . it's a little OOC. Sorta the point though.**

"Of course I'm serious . . . my best friend is the Boy-Who-Lived." Ron gestured wildly at the kids sitting in front of him. "He's the only hope the world has against V-v-voldemort."

A little boy with blonde hair in front of him raised his hand. "Are wizards really scared to say his name?"

"You bet, Mark." Ron rewarded the little boy with a wide grin. "Dead terrified of it and with good reason. Old snake-face is evil."

"Eviler than Darth Vader?" a girl with red pigtails, crutches, and a cast from her knee down asked, peeking from behind her hands.

"Annie, Darth Vader has nothing on this guy," Ron assured her. "But that's why Harry is going to destroy all of the horacruxes and then destroy Voldemort. He'll rescue us in a little while, don't you worry."

"And then we can go to Hogwarts?" the four year old at the very front piped up.

Ron's expression softened and he scooped the little African-American girl up onto his lap. "Of course, Lavender. I'll take you back to Hogwarts myself."

"Will Professor Snape put us in the dungeon if we're bad?" Mark asked, silvery-gray eyes round with fear.

"No way! We kicked the greasy git out after what he did to Dumbledore. McGonagall might be strict, but she's way better than the bat of the dungeons. After all, what house would you all be in?"

"GRYFFINDOR!" came the cheer.

* * *

"Isn't he just the sweetest thing with those kids, Gin?" Hermione whispered to her fellow candy-stripper. "Oh, he's just darling with little Lavender."

"How is Lavender's chemotherapy going anyway?" her friend mused abstractly as she studied her clipboard. "Did Dr. Lupin give you an update?"

"Ginny!"

The redhead looked up. "Come on, Hermione. You know how hard it is to look at him like this. He was almost my brother, 'Mione. The adoption was almost through. I was looking so forward to it, and then Harry's accident and then this . . . it's not fair."

"Aww, Ginny. I'm sorry. It'll get better."

"Not very likely. Now about Lavender's chemotherapy?"

* * *

"Where's my little Prince?"

"Daddy!" Mark screamed. He jumped up and raced to the tall blonde man standing in the doorway, jumping into his father's arms. "You're early!"

"Is that okay, Mark?" Draco paused. "I was done with the paperwork early, so I thought we'd go surprise your mother."

"That's great. Ron finished the story early and was just teaching us the wand motions for _Wingardium Leviosa_." Mark leaned close to whisper in his father's ear, "That part's boring!"

"I heard that!"

Mark leaned backward, until he flipped upside down. "Sorry, Ron!" He flipped right side up again, and hugged his father's neck. "Can I go home early . . . please?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Get on with you. Just don't let your dad turn you into a Slytherin overnight, kid."

"Oi! I'll have you know that the House of Slytherin is just as noble as your precious Gryffindor. We are the noblest of all creatures after all."

"Nuh-uh! Daddy, the lions are the noblest of creatures!"

"Poisoning my own child against me," Draco moaned. "What have I ever done to you?"

"Where to begin, Malfoy? Where to begin?" Ron taunted.

"I'm an easy-going guy, right? A great social-worker, right? Why does he persist in tormenting me?"

"You make it too easy," Greg piped up from the floor. It was the only sentence that the autistic boy could say, but he found multiple chances to use it during Ron and Draco's light banter.

"And on that note, Mr. Malfoy had better say good night. Visiting hours are over, young man."

"Come on, Minerva-I mean, Head Nurse. You'll forgive me, won't you?"

"Not as long as you continue working for that stubborn greasy git," she hit him over the head with her clipboard. "I expect great things from you Mr. Malfoy. Not you doing Snape's dirty work for him so he doesn't have to look at anyone younger than thirty."

Draco shrugged. "Pay is good. And ix-nay on the Nape-say."

But Ron wasn't paying attention anymore. He was staring out the window, Lavender sleeping in his lap, and mouthing the same phrase over and over again.

* * *

**Finite.**


	7. The New Trio

**A/N: I swear I was probably the first! I finished the book in ten hours, a straight read through first day and started typing. But I got stuck about 3/4 of the way and left it on hold for about a week, and then wrote some more . . . and then another week and a little more . . . and on until today when I'm posting the finished product. Three cheers for me!**

**Okay, so this is my attempt at personalizing what everyone realizes is the next trio of Hogwarts, Albus Potter, Rose Weasley, and Scorpious Malfoy. Enjoy their train ride. (I didn't go as far as the Sorting. You can imagine whatever house you want to your little heart's content . . . I'm personally a fan of Slytherin although Albus didn't really strike me as Slytherin material no matter what Harry said.)**

**Disclaimer: JKR's universe . . . I'm just playing with the stars . . . and my roommate thinks I'm a few short of a constellation.**

Albus hesitantly followed Rose into the train and sighed in relief when they found a completely empty compartment. "Rose? Where do you think you're going to be sorted?"

Rose closed the book she had just opened and sighed. "You're not still worried about that, are you, Al? I thought your dad fixed it."

"How can you not be worried?!"

Rose rolled her eyes. "I'm going to be in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, Albus. There's no way I won't be, so I don't see the point in getting all worked up. Think through this logically."

Albus shook his head. "I don't want to think through this logically. If I think through this logically, I'll conclude that I belong in Slytherin."

"What's wrong with Slytherin, Potter?"

Al spun around to face Scorpious Malfoy, but nothing came out of his mouth. The other boy shrugged and pointed to the seat beside Rose. "Can I sit down?" Rose nodded warily. He threw himself into the seat and stretched. "I wouldn't be worried if I were you. Everyone says that you're just like your dad and he was a model Gryffindor."

Albus shook his head. "The Sorting Hat almost put him into Slytherin."

This caught Scorpious' attention and he sat up, blue eyes lit up eagerly. "Really? Now that's interesting."

"Why?" Rose scoffed. "Are you going to sell the information to the Daily Prophet?"

Scorpious waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, they wouldn't print it . . . still atoning for the slander during the war, I reckon. Dad showed me some of the newspapers from his Hogworts days. They were right nasty." He shook his head as if clearing it. "Anyway, the reason that I find it interesting, is that now there's a good chance that Potter will be a Slytherin with me. Don't blame you any for hoping Gryffindor . . . nothing I'd like better than to confound the hat into putting me there. Give my old man a heart attack." His happy expression at the thought eventually faded and he shrugged, pulling himself back into the proper dimension. "But alas, as you can see that the only ways to go about it are decidedly Slytherin and not likely to work on that powerful a magic object. So it's to the dungeons with me," he finished cheerfully, popping a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean into his mouth. "Mmm, strawberry . . . I have the most uncommon good luck with these things."

"Really?" Rose perked up. She had dismal luck with the things, only coming across the flavors she liked by accident. "Could you find me a lime one?"

Scorpious tipped the bag over in his hand and perused them closely. "No lime in this batch. How about kiwi?"

He pushed three into her hand, and Rose put one in her mouth cautiously. Then she smiled. "It is kiwi."

"Course it is," Scorpious scoffed. "What about you, Potter?"

"Lemon." Albus accepted the bright yellow bean and looked back up at Scorpious. "You're not how I thought you would be. I figured a Malfoy would act very properly."

Scorpious laughed. "Well, I'm rebelling, aren't I? Mind you, I have to be careful not to go too far in front of Dad. He's holding my broom hostage this year after all." His eyes narrowed. "I don't want to be rivals, Potter, but I'm not giving up my quidditch position for anyone."

"What position do you play?"

"Seeker."

"Well that's good, cause I play keeper and a decent one at that," Albus sat down for the first time since he got on the train. "What team do you support?"

"Fair Isle. You?"

"Chuddley Cannons."

"You're kidding."

"They haven't had a point scored against them since Uncle Ron joined the team," Albus defended.

"Yeah, but they can't score points either. Every game ends in a stalemate."

"Boys," Rose muttered, going back to her book.

"Yeah? What about you, Weasley? You avoid flying like your mum or addicted to the losing swarm of orange like your dad and Potter here?"

"Holyhead Harpiers, no contest . . . and I play beater," she informed him over her book. "And I would appreciate it if you would call me by my first name to avoid confusion with my many cousins."

"Sure. What is it?"

Rose blinked. "You came in here and sat down to have a conversation and don't even know?"

Scorpious shrugged. "Why would I? Your family isn't splashed across the papers the way Albus Potter's is."

Rose blinked again, a little owlishly and finally found her voice. "Rose. Rose Nymph Weasley."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Scorpious gave a mock bow. "You have my permission, m'lady, to call me by my given name as well. The full version, mind you. No dodgy abbreviations of it."

Albus winced. "How exactly do you pronounce it? I don't think Uncle Ron got it right."

"Warned you about me, did he?" Scorpious looked very pleased with that piece of information. "You say it like this. Score-p-ous."

"Got it. No nickname at all?"

"Do any of those syllables or combinations thereof, sound remotely appealing to answer to? My middle name is as bad as the first, so just stick with this."

"Right."

"Now onto more important matters. I hear the trolley."

"You've got a bit of a sweet tooth, haven't you?" Rose sighed. "Candy's really horrible for your teeth, you know?"

"I could still beat Lockhart's record for Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award with rotten teeth," Scorpious confidently informed her, emptying his pockets out in search of coins.

"Rather full of himself, isn't he?" Rose grinned over her book at Albus. "Get me a couple Cauldron Cakes, Al."

Al grinned back and followed Scorpious into the corridor. Depleting the trolley witch's stash by quite a bit, they returned to the compartment and unloaded the stash, dividing up the spoils, with the occasional treat being thrust at Rose to try despite her protests.

"So you've got an older brother and a younger sister, right, Al?" Scorpious asked through a mouthful of Licorice Wand.

"Yeah, James and Lily. Rose has a younger brother . . . his name's Hugo."

"What about you?" Rose asked politely between bites of her Cauldron Cake. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Nope. Only child," Scorpious grinned, licking his fingers. "So my father has to put up with me no matter what, horrible manners and all. Either of you play Wizard's Chess?"

"I'm decent," Albus shrugged. "Rose is best."

"Excellent." Scorpious waved his wand to summon his chess set and was rewarded with the case flying at him like a bludger and winding him as it collided with his stomach. "Bloody wand," Scorpious muttered, as he laid out the board and dumped the pieces onto it.

"Try waving it with a little less force and it won't try killing you," Rose suggested from behind her book.

Scorpious sent the pieces to their correct places and snatched the book out of her hand, tossing it to Albus. "Come on."

"What . . . no! Play Al!"

Scorpious rolled his eyes. "I want to play you. Come on, Rose. Scared?"

"I am not!"

"Prove it."

Rose switched seats with Albus in a huff, settling her skirts around her before glaring at both boys. "After I crush you, I want to read. And don't you dare lose my spot, Albus Severus Potter, or I'll hex your hair pink."

Albus clutched the book tighter to his chest. No one had ever managed to survive stealing a book from Rose before and he wasn't going to feel completely safe until she was immersed in _Hogworts, A History_ once more.

Scorpious leaned over and stage-whispered into Al's ear, "Can she really do that?"

Albus swallowed. "She turned all of our cousins' hair pink with her first accidental magic and looked up the proper spell soon after that. So . . . yeah, if she wanted to, she could and would."

"And don't you forget it," Rose sniffed. "Pawn to D2."

"Hey! Hey! Who said you were white?"

Albus sighed, sank down into his seat, still hugging the book tightly. "I have the feeling that if we survive today, this is the start of a beautiful new friendship."

**Finite.**


	8. Snape's Son

**A/N: My hand at a Snape-is-Harry's-biological-father-story. I didn't really see it working out pre-Deathly Hollows as fascinating as the idea was. But just in case . . . since I like the style no matter how improbable . . . here's a moment in the pre-Boy-Who-Lived Snape household. It was meant to be cute . . . and I tried to keep the OCC-ness from terrifying people. Snape would be a possessive father and husband. I'm sure of it.**

**Disclaimer: JKR's universe. I'm just playing with the stars.**

Severus groaned and waved an arm at the blasted alarm clock to shut it off and buried his face in the pillow again. He heard a soft laugh like a bubbling brook and rolled onto his back but kept his eyes closed. "Some people do not share your obsession with sunrise, Evans."

"Daddy woke up grumpy this morning, Harry," the voice teased. "See if you can fix that while I make breakfast, okay, darling?"

Severus felt a slight weight suddenly rest on his chest, but refrained from opening his eyes until the woman returned to the kitchen. Then his black eyes met the vivid emerald green orbs of his precious six-month-old infant son. "Your mother is insane," he informed the boy. Harry blinked sleepily and nestled closer to him. Severus lay there watching his son sleep and marveling at the perfection of the tiny human before him. He couldn't believe that he had a hand in little Harry's creation. The fine black hair and long eyelashes came from him. He also suspected the upturned button nose to narrow into the fine straight one that Severus had, before the Whomping Willow broke it. Ten long fingers, the hands of a future potions master, curled into tiny fists while he slept, safe, warm, and dry in the pale blue sleeper decorated with tiny golden snitches. "My beautiful, beautiful baby boy," he murmured, stroking Harry's back gently.

"You're going to be late for work if you don't get up soon, luv," his wife said amusedly from where she stood leaning against the doorframe.

"Can't you see that I'm bonding with my son?" the twenty-two year old man griped as he started his morning rituals of preparing for the day with his sleeping child still cradled to his chest. "And that is much more important than supervising unintelligent brats intent on blowing up Hogwarts, Evans."

"My maiden name twice in one morning? I must be in trouble."

Severus caught her chin with his free hand, and kissed her gently. "I love you, Lilly Annaliese Evans Snape, more than life itself."

**Finite.**


	9. Mistletoe

**A/N: If only the little mistletoe scene went differently . . . oh, then I and a lot of other Ginny-haters, would be very happy. But if you're exceptionally die-hard about canon pairings or your own preferred pairing, you can read it as a friendship thing. Luna is the best character in the books after Snape, followed very closely by Draco and Ron. Enjoy. I tried to keep it in-character, and I think I succeeded. This couple is so very sweet. I love to read and write it.**

**Disclaimer: JKR's universe, I'm just rearranging the stars.**

**Warning: Short, shameless fluff.**

"Mistletoe."

Harry jumped out from under it on instinct. Most teenage boys both loved and feared the Christmas plant of romance . . . maybe feared a little more than loved. They were teenagers and life tended not to go their way after all. See Exhibit A: _Harry Potter and Cho Chang's Relationship So Far (and What Will Be)_ for all the evidence needed.

But Luna turned serious, which meant something was wrong. "Good thinking. It's often infested with nargles." She began to turn away, and he had to fix it.

Harry stepped back under the mistletoe and caught her shoulder. After a moment of staring at each other, he shrugged and grinned. "I don't believe in nargles." With that, he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Happy Christmas, Luna."

She smiled dreamily at him again. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

Harry watched her leave, and after the door shut, he licked his lips and chuckled. Leave it to Luna Luvgood to have pudding-flavored lip gloss.

**Finite.**


	10. Mistakes

**A/N: Random . . . sort of a second go at an _Identity Crisis_ plot, but focused on the leaving part rather than the coming back. And as you can see, this is a one-shot, meaning no sequel, please don't pm me for more . . . the whole _Identity Crisis_ mess turned me off of Harry Potter for a while. Thank you in advance for complying. Hmm . . . well, this is another go at a potential early rescue for Harry based off of the information discovered in HPatDH, although you don't need to read the final book in order to understand it, although I'm sure just about everyone has by now. I didn't want Snape to be OOC, but I did want him to have finally seen Lily in Harry.**

**Disclaimer: JKR's Universe. I'm just rearranging the stars.**

Harry was very quiet as he packed his things into a second-hand book-bag. Only his most valuable possessions . . . there was no room for extras in his book-bag and he couldn't take his trunk. No magic over the holidays and he hadn't learned the shrinking charm yet anyway.

Harry tucked his photo album, his flute, and his father's invisibility cloak into the bottom of the bag along with his two most important textbooks (The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) and Magical Drafts and Potions). Then he hid them under a change of clothes and some extra underwear. He'd already tucked his wand up his sleeve, tying it into place with the shoelaces for Dudley's expensive-but-never-used running shoes.

Once he got outside, he was going to fly away on his broom . . . maybe to London . . . he hadn't decided yet. First, he had to get himself and Hedwig outside.

Unfortunately, Hedwig was still locked inside her cage and Harry lacked the key or the ability to use _alohomora_. So he had to carefully drop his broomstick to the ground below and hope it didn't make too much noise. Uncle Vernon and Dudley could sleep through a hurricane, but Aunt Petunia had truly sharp ears. He waited a full ten minutes after it hit to swing himself out the window, the top of Hedwig's cage clutched tightly in one hand.

The book-bag alone wouldn't have been a hindrance, but the cage unbalanced him more than once on his climb down the ivy trellis. He didn't dare jump. He might hurt Hedwig and while the owl had been obediently silent through this whole procedure, he couldn't blame her for protesting if he banged her around in the cage. The noise would give them both away.

Harry let out a soft sigh of relief as his feet touched the solid soil of Aunt Petunia's rose garden. "We did it, girl," he whispered jubilantly to Hedwig.

"Fool child . . . it's a wonder you didn't break your neck."

Harry jumped a foot in the air and Hedwig bit off a hoot of distress, understanding the gravity of the situation. A moment later, when he was still alive, Harry turned hesitantly towards the speaker.

Professor Snape stood at the edge of the yard, feet firmly planted on the very edge of the sidewalk and both hands shoved deep into the pockets of his outer robe. "Good evening, Potter."

"I'm not going back," Harry hissed fiercely. "Don't try and make me."

"I assure you, Potter, that even if I had the intention of doing so, I'm incapable of stepping one foot onto your muggle relatives' property. Why on earth didn't you use the front door?"

"How come you can't step onto the grass?" Harry challenged.

"I made a mistake long ago that Albus Dumbledore insists I keep paying for," the man answered him dangerously.

Harry swallowed. "Aunt Petunia leaves her door open so I can't sneak out of my room for food or the bathroom or running away."

"Incompetent muggle," Snape snorted. "So what's the plan, Potter? Flying to Hogwarts? The Weasleys? Don't be daft . . . you'll be sent straight back."

Harry didn't answer. Snape continued to glower at him. The staring contest was broken when Hedwig cooed softly and Harry ducked his head to comfort the owl.

"Set the cage on the sidewalk, Potter. The poor beast needs to stretch her wings."

Harry cautiously climbed over the rose bushes and set the cage on the sidewalk about ten feet away from where Snape stood, hastily darting back to the grass and recovering his broomstick. He was surprised when instead of using a spell, Snape crouched and withdrew a lock pick from his robes to free Hedwig. As soon as the owl soared into the sky to practice some daring acrobatic maneuvers, Snape lifted the cage and returned to his previous spot on the edge of the sidewalk.

"I should hope the next time you decide to run away, you have a plan or owl for help first," the professor suggested scathingly.

"No one would come," Harry declared. "None of my friends have sent me any letters . . . and Dumbledore wouldn't help me either."

Snape nodded. "I heard. That's why I came."

"I'm not going back."

"Good," his least-favorite teacher replied promptly. "Make sure you get far away and hide very well. Dumbledore has a long reach. I found out first-hand."

Harry felt rather brave. The professor hadn't spelled or poisoned him yet. And if Snape was merely keeping him here until it was too late to run away, Harry wasn't falling for it. He had four hours until sunrise and he only needed one to get to London. Besides the man was actually encouraging him. "What mistake did you make, sir? The one Dumbledore insists you keep paying for?"

Snape was quiet for a long moment, looking up at the stars, before returning his unforgiving-gaze to Harry. "I've made a lot of mistakes," the man finally said.

Harry blinked. That had been more honest than he expected. But Snape had always been that . . . honest . . . blunt, cruel, unforgiving, insistent, and impatient, but brutally honest. Harry never got honesty from Dumbledore, only riddles and secrets. Maybe there was only thing that Dumbledore had been right about, and that was Harry's misjudgment of Professor Snape.

"I think I've made a lot of mistakes too," Harry said softly, offering the peace branch. "But this . . ." he gestured to his bag, the ivy trellis, his professor, and the road ". . . this isn't a mistake."

"No," Professor Snape agreed. "No, it's most certainly not."

"I don't really have anywhere to go."

Snape held out one hand, still balanced on the edge of the sidewalk where some invisible line divided the two. Harry reached out without hesitation and took it, stepping onto the sidewalk. Snape crouched, spelling a warming charm at Harry and a shrinking charm at the cage and broomstick. Then with a sweep of his cloak and a muttered word, both Professor Severus Snape and Harry Potter disappeared from #4 Privet Drive.

By the time the Ministry of Magic notice arrived, they had already left England.

**Finite Incantatem.**


	11. Malfoy Moment

**A/N: Oh dear, this is almost as short as _Mistletoe_ . . . believe me, I'm not trying to go drabble-writer on you. But some things don't need plots to be entertaining. And yes . . . I wrote this story expressly for the line about Scorpious and the rattle. Well, that and to give Draco some dignity . . . JKR certainly didn't.**

**Disclaimer: JKR's Universe, I'm just rearranging the stars.**

Scorpius Malfoy was not in his crib. It was obvious that the seven-month old had not left the crib on his own. But his mother wasn't worried. Draco was home after all.

Not that he ever stopped working. The woman laughed in amusement as the volume of Draco's diatribe reached her ears. Barely home for fifteen minutes, and with only pause enough to liberate his son, had gone straight to his study. But it was this attitude that had allowed him to recover his family's wealth and double it through hard work. He had learned from his father's mistakes.

And now he was a father as well. And in her humble opinion, he was a marvelous one despite the unfortunate name he had bestowed their baby in the Black tradition (although she supposed that it wasn't his fault all the good constellations were taken). If Draco was in the house, Scorpius was with him. Which suited the baby rather well since the tyke loved attention and hated naps.

She paused in the doorway with a benevolent smile. Draco was half-turned away from her and shouting in infuriated German at the unfortunate employee who had fire-called long distance. Little Scorpius punctuated his father's words with a firm shake of his rattle.

The poor child would be fluent in several languages by the time he learned to speak, although who knew what his vocabulary would contain . . . Draco's vocabulary was certainly colorful enough.

However, Draco's image of terrifying boss was slowly wearing away with every day Scorpius grew older. The victim of his current rant glanced past him to share an amused smile with the current Lady Malfoy. The baby with his snitch-shaped rattle that Draco cradled close utterly destroyed his pretentious image.

Lady Malfoy rather liked it that way.

**Finite Incantatem.**


	12. Weasley Twin Justice

**A/N: Okay, this started with me being extremely hyper (at least three mountain dews and an economy-sized amount of chocolate) at about three in the morning where I was suddenly struck out of nowhere with this idea. "Luna Luvgood would be perfect for one of the Weasley Twins-probably George since Fred has (had sniffle) Angelina!" And bam, I'm starting a fic about how they end up together. Around three in the afternoon the next day, having eight hours of sleep, and a cup of coffee, I had regained my wits and couldn't believe that (a) I had come up with the idea, (b) I potentially could make it work, (c) the muse had already died, and (d) I had considered starting another project when I've still got two Harry Potter fics and a Naruto fic running (for more information on Jamie Snape updates, please see my profile). However, it explained where Luna got her nickname, and it's astonishingly understandable for something written on a sugar-high. So I'm posting what might have been the first chapter in a long epic of AU-ness of _I Never Thought I Would be a Hero_ proportions as a one-shot for your reading pleasure.**

**Disclaimer: JKR's universe. I'm playing with the stars.**

The prank was bloody brilliant. It had been in planning all summer long, and the Weasley Twins had spared no expense or detail. The color-change powder was high-quality, long-lasting, and matched each House's color scheme. Peeves had been sufficiently bribed with new dungbombs to assist with the distribution of color-change powder (and his later dispersal of the dungbombs would undoubtedly be amusing). Everyone was there to get there schedules the first morning of classes. No one suspected a thing . . . except for possibly the Ravenclaw First-Year who had come to breakfast with an open umbrella.

George followed Percy discretely and Fred followed him since they tended to attract even more attention by separating. Apparently there was some sort of unspoken rule that where one Weasley twin was, the other was behind you with a horrendous prank . . . actually, Fred and George may have written that one down . . . on Percy's best robe with chalk. But at the moment, their older brother was hastening to help a female Ravenclaw prefect dissuade the younger girl from her umbrella.

"Luvgood, the ceiling is merely charmed. It is not actually raining indoors," the Ravenclaw prefect explained calmly and patiently. "I can go over the charms with you later, but you have my word that you won't need an umbrella for meals."

"Not for all of them," the blonde girl agreed, smiling gently. "But I do need it for today, thank you."

"Now listen here," Percy interrupted indignantly, his chest puffing up impressively. "Miss Clearwater is a prefect as am I, and she just told you that you won't need that umbrella. Now put it away . . . you are causing a scene!"

"I'm sorry . . . but I need my umbrella today." The girl returned to her tea and toast without a second thought and the Ravenclaw prefect had to pull Percy away.

"You won't get through to her, Percy," the girl soothed. "That's Luna Luvgood, the daughter of Xenophilius Luvgood, the editor of The Quibbler."

Percy let out a snort of laughter. "No wonder the girl's loony."

George bristled in outrage. Percy had no business saying that in front of the girl's housemates. In a matter of hours, the First-Year would have a permanent nickname that wouldn't be affectionate. He had a suggestion for where Peeves put his newfound dungbombs to use. After all, even if the First-Year knew what the Weasley Twins were up to, she hadn't ratted them out, so they owed her one.

"Are you thinking . . ."

". . . what I'm thinking?" Fred finished, with a knowing nod.

Before they could finalize anything however, Peeves swept through the Great Hall dispersing the color-change powder in every direction . . . all the color-change powder regardless of which bag was designated for which house.

Fred and George sighed at this little hitch in their plan and surveyed their blue and silver robes. Well, it could have been worse . . . it could have been the Slytherin colors . . . and at least the Slytherins had been rather liberally doused with a combination of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff colors.

Little Luna Luvgood calmly finished her toast as Peeves flew out the window, shook off her umbrella, folded it, and stood. Percy and the Ravenclaw prefect both watched her in dumbfounded shock, making Fred and George feel surprisingly guilty. No one else was supposed to be blamed.

"I'm glad I made friends with Peeves," Luna announced to the stunned hall. "He absolutely insisted that I bring my umbrella with me since it would be raining in the Great Hall this morning. Although I must say, these are such pretty colors."

Pandemonium broke out as people returned to outrage over the state of their robes and/or hair. Luna disappeared in the chaos until she reappeared by the Gryffindor table next to the still stupefied Weasley Twins.

"If it's any consolation, I think you both look rather handsome in blue," she offered.

Fred snickered. George guffawed. Then they each grabbed a goblet of the left over powder and overturned it above Luna's head. The gold and silver dust settled in her hair and she smiled brightly at them. Fred draped an arm around her shoulders and George cleared off a seat. "Fred and George Weasley, at your service."

"Luna 'Loony' Luvgood," she offered.

"About that . . ." George started.

". . . we've got a few punishments to work out for Prefect Percy," Fred finished with a grin. "How do you feel about dungbombs?"

Percy was rather nasally odious for the rest of the week.

**Finite Incantatem.**


	13. Bad Habits

**A/N: This started out as a chapter from one of my original stories based on me and my boyfriend at the time. Having since abandoned the project, I found it during my routine cleaning of my jumpdrive. I thought the verbal exchange was pretty good, so I didn't want to toss it. Some minor edits changed it from American College students at a coffee shop to British Magical Teenagers in the Great Hall. I love the character of Severus Snape, so I explored his relationship with Lily a bit. Enjoy.**

**Warnings: Very minor (possibly one-sided) Sev/Lily**

**Disclaimers: JKR's Coffee shop . . . I'm mixing my own drinks.**

Severus Snape was a morning person by principle and habit rather than desire. He knew his best friend, Lily Evans, was not a morning person by any of those three determinants. So what she was doing in the Great Hall at six o'clock in the morning on a Saturday was beyond him. Perhaps it was a sign of the apocalypse.

He kicked aside the chair next to him. It was early enough that no one else was in the Great Hall, except for Professor Vector, who didn't care if Lily sat at the Slytherin table. Lily tripped over the chair and Severus caught her arm to keep her from landing in the plate of bacon.

"What are you doing in here this early? What are you doing _up_ this early?"

"No idea. Alice. Alarm," she managed sleepily, taking a seat.

Severus rolled his eyes and poured her a cup of coffee, adding extra cream and sugar. "Coffee," he explained, placing the mug in her hands.

Lily accepted the cup and took a long drink, which brought a smile. "You are a saint and there should be a universal holiday named after you."

Severus gave a snort of amusement. "A complete sentence and a compliment . . . I'll take that as a thank you."

"That too." She sipped a little more and the smile got even wider. "You even remembered my cream and sugar. Normally you serve me the same tar that you drink."

"There is nothing wrong with black coffee," he defended his preferred beverage.

Lily gave him a skeptical look over her mug. "Well, thank you anyway."

"It was nothing," Severus grumbled, shrugging it off. "After all, it was either that or transfigure a pillow for you." He finished off his coffee. "So what amusing story involving Alice Perkins and an alarm clock brought you to the Great Hall at six in the morning? Because I know for a fact that you consider nine o'clock classes to be unnaturally early."

"Well, they are!" Lily pouted. "And it's a Hogsmeade weekend, so Alice and I are going Christmas shopping and she wants to get an early start. So Alice set an alarm clock and when that failed, dragged me from the bed."

"Why didn't she let you sleep until she was ready to go?"

"She knew that I'd be useless without coffee."

"Good point. So who's on your list?"

"My parents, Tuney, my dormmates, Alice, Remus, you and maybe Sirius if he behaves himself and gets at least an Acceptable on his next Potions test," Lily listed off, counting on her fingers and then putting the last one down. Evidently, she thought that even with her tutoring, an Acceptable in Potions was beyond Black. Her green eyes positively sparkled with excitement at the prospect of a day of shopping. "I've been waiting for this. I saved my babysitting money from this summer."

Severus grimaced. "They should have paid us more. The little ankle-biters were nightmares. I'm not babysitting the newest one if he's anything like his brothers."

"Just because Bill Weasley managed to lock you in his father's tool shed does not make him a nightmare, Severus Snape. You were so interested in the magically enhanced typewriter, that you didn't even notice when he unlocked it."

Severus sent her _Glare of Imminent Doom #28_ and spooned a healthy helping of porridge in her bowl, knowing that she didn't like it.

Lily stuck her tongue at him. "For your information, I thought Bill and Charlie were little angels . . . at least while they were napping . . . and Percy is a good baby." She added strawberry jam to the toast on Severus' plate. "So there."

"Are you trying to kill me?" Severus growled, pushing the toast away with his fork. "You know I'm allergic to the stuff."

"And you know that I don't like porridge."

"It's good for you," he sulked, glaring at the toast as if it had offended him personally.

"What's good for you?" Alice Perkins asked from directly behind him.

Severus resisted the temptation to flinch. Lily's attention was diverted as she waved cheerily to her friend with a spoon. "Hello, crazy friend of mine . . . ready for a day of shopping?"

"You bet. Thank you for getting her coffee, Snape."

"Bad Habit, Perkins," he managed snidely. If he couldn't be mean, then he could at least be rude. Lily hadn't yet banned that. "Personally, I'm surprised she made it this far alone pre-coffee as all I got out of her was a few words that made no sense."

"More than I got, Snape. She only managed a few grunts when I woke her so I told her to find coffee."

"I'm sitting right here, you two," Lily broke in. "And I do not grunt," she fixed her best friend with a pointed look."

"You do too. Now come on, I want to get to the shops before the rest of Hogwarts does. Sure you don't want to come with us, Snape?"

"Certain," he muttered darkly. He'd gone shopping with Lily before and was not fool enough to repeat the experience. "I'll meet you for lunch, Lily, if you're done by then. _Three Broomsticks_ at one o'clock. Try to be prompt."

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, waving over her shoulder as she left. Severus knew her well enough to plan on taking a book with him and eating a late lunch. Until then, he had a letter to write and Potter's gang to hide from.

**Finite.**


	14. Never Mess With A Muggle

**A/N: If the Dursleys were proper caring guardians of their nephew, undoubtedly lots of things about the books would change, but this is an exchange that was inspired by a Dudley-is-a-Wizard story and chatting with my friends. It just struck me out of the blue that if something like Umbridge had happened to Dudley, Petunia would have had a _fit_, so I kinda twisted it into a nice!Dursleys story with Harry. Enjoy. If the OCC-ness bothers you, try to imagine it in this way . . . _If_ Petunia loved Harry as much as she loved Dudley, are the characterizations right then?**

**Warnings: Mentions of Child Abuse**

**Disclaimer: Anything recognizeable belongs to JKR . . . situation belongs to me.**

Petunia marched onto Hogwarts grounds, ignoring the wards and even the gates sprang open before her. Entering the Great Hall, she turned to a startled Ernie McMillan. "Take me to the new Headmistress," she ordered.

"I am right here, Madame," Umbridge said stiffly. "How may I help you?"

"This is the formal paperwork for removing my nephew, Harry James Potter, from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Petunia snipped at the toad-like woman. "The same paperwork has been submitted to your Ministry of Magic and the appropriate _muggle_ authorities." She waved the _So Your Child's a Wizard/Witch_ brochure that every muggle-raised child's family received before First Year. "This was very helpful."

"You can't do this!" Umbridge yelped.

"I can," Petunia leveled a very stern look at the Headmistress. "I am Harry's legal guardian. He has taken his OWLs and I have enrolled him in the local day school until you have been removed from Hogwarts, something that I will personally ensure, Madame Umbridge. You have overstepped your bounds as a teacher and a headmistress. I will be suing Hogwarts on Harry's behalf for the flagrant misuse of authority and _abuse_ of a child."

"As well as the use of an illegal artifact," Remus supplied helpfully. Petunia had given him the authority to act as Harry's guardian while in the Magical World years ago. He had been having tea with the Dursley's when Sirius had passed along the message from Harry.

Umbridge began to shake and started to go for her wand, but thought better of it. "That is a _lie_," she hissed.

Petunia raised one brow in an eerily Snape-like manner. "So state the marks on his hand, which clearly show otherwise. Now, I will be taking my nephew with me."

Harry hurried forward from Gryffindor Table, having already packed his things as Sirius had ordered. "Here I am, Aunt Petunia."

"Come along, Harry-dear. Your Uncle has the car waiting outside the wards."

"I _forbid _you from leaving, Potter!" Umbridge shrieked.

Petunia turned away from her nephew and promptly slapped the woman across the face. Not only was it a perfectly acceptable cure for hysteria, Petunia didn't mind delivering the harder than necessary slap one bit.

Harry grinned a bit from the safety between his aunt and Remus. "That, Umbridge, is what you get for messing with a muggle."

**Finite.**


	15. The New Trio II

**A/N: I got such a nice reaction from my "The New Trio" one-shot, that I decided to do another follow-up for my loyal fans. Random Third Year moment in the lives of Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, and Rose Weasley. And I hope you enjoy this one just as much although it's somewhat shorter.**

**Disclaimer: In the event that you've been living under a rock for over a decade, JKR is the author of the Harry Potter series, and I am a humble fanfiction author.**

Albus had been waiting in the Library nearly twenty minutes for Scorpius who was always late and Rose who was never late. He was thoroughly curious by this point, but was too Slytherin to betray it when Scorpius finally crashed into the chair opposite him.

Pretending to be deeply interested in his book, Albus casually commented, "A little late, are we?"

"_Someone_," Rose huffed, seating herself neatly beside him, "thought I needed a _tour_ of the _entire_ castle."

Scorpius grinned, still breathing heavily from the exertion. "You know that you love me, Rose," he chuckled. "Don't forget we're going to get married in four years to give our dads both heart attacks. We can't do that if you kill me before the end of Third Year."

"I still refuse to be a part of _your_ plan for upsetting our parents," Rose snorted. "And besides the lack of my agreement, said-plan is forgetting one other important detail . . . your self-proclaimed fiancé."

"Ah," Albus remarked calmly. "So you were running from Lily . . . I'm surprised you lost her. She's quite dedicated."

"Don't I know it," Scorpius moaned, letting his head collide with the table.

"You shouldn't do that," Rose remonstrated from behind the large text that she had already buried herself in. "You'll mess up your hair."

Scorpius sat up hastily, his hands moving to ascertain the state of his hair. Albus stopped him. "Don't do that, Rose! He already uses the mirror twice as long as the rest of us. Anymore and MacMillan is going to kill him."

"My apologies," Rose sniffed. "His hair is perfect as usual. Uh-oh." A familiar red head entered the Library, and Rose retracted her statement by shoving Scorpius under the table unceremoniously.

"Watch the hair!" he whined quietly.

"Buy a hand mirror," she snapped back.

"There are days when I wish I could have talked Dad into giving me his Invisibility Cloak," Albus muttered as Lily caught sight of them and headed in their direction. "Run or hide, Scorpius?" he asked with a heavy sigh. "It's your call."

"Run. Run. Definitely run," Scorpius babbled. "Third Floor Passage, now." He scrambled out from under the table and raced for the Library door with Albus at his heels. Ignoring Madame Pince's protests, they dodged around Lily and headed for freedom. They were lucky to evade capture and ten minutes later found both boys collapsed against the wall in the Third Floor Passage.

"Wasn't your Dad any . . . any help at all?" Scorpius gasped out, clutching his midsection. "I mean, surely he's against this, right?"

Albus winced. "He said you could learn a disillusionment charm, but that's only prolonging the inevitable. She's a Weasley woman and they always get what they want."

"Disillusionment charms are Fifth Year," Scorpius whined. "I can't be seen sweaty and out-of-breath for the next two years. Think of the broken hearts, Al!"

Albus pushed his best friend over, ignoring the crash. Heaving himself upward, he pulled three crates off of the stack and set them on the floor, adding a cushioning charm to each one.

Having collected himself, Scorpius pulled over the largest crate into the center for their makeshift table, and stood on it to light the overhead lamp. Having done so, he jumped down and rooted in their stash of snacks for Butterbeers.

Albus took one and kicked his feet up onto the table. Scorpius took the seat to his left, perusing a Quidditch magazine for the few short minutes they had before Rose would appear with the books they needed for their essays. Of course this means that they were loudly _discussing_ the Chudley Cannons' chances of winning the Quidditch Cup by the time she arrived.

"Boys!" Rose huffed, dropping her bag onto the table with an audible thud, narrowly missing Albus' feet. "So help me, if you don't fail Transfiguration, I will find a way to transfigure you both into giraffes!"

"Giraffes?" Scorpius looked over to Albus for confirmation. The dark-haired boy shrugged. "Why giraffes, Rosie?"

"Don't call me that," she ordered irately over the top of the book she was hiding behind.

Scorpius leapt from his seat, kneeling before her on one knee, hands clutched to his heart dramatically. "I'm sorry! Please forgive me, my dearest darling Nymph."

"That either," Rose glared.

"Marry me."

Rose closed her book calmly and brought it down sharply over the top of Scorpius' head. "Not if you were the last man alive. Now go do your homework." She turned back to her page and resumed pouring over Ancient Runes.

Scorpius heaved a heavy sigh, and crawled back onto his crate, a broken man for all of two minutes before Albus handed him a Chocolate Frog. Happily munching the treat and flipping through his Transfiguration text, all was silent for thirty seconds before he looked up with a disgruntled expression.

"So why giraffes, Rose?"

"Giraffes are silent," she answered, turning the page. "Pass me a butterbeer, Al."

Albus snorted in amusement at Scorpius' floored expression and hid it by turning away under the pretense of needing to look for a butterbeer. He popped the lid and handed it to his cousin. Raising his, he smirked. "To Rose, the only hope we have of passing."

Rose rolled her eyes. "To Scorpius, the egotistical brat we need for comic relief."

"To Al!" Scorpius cheered waving his half-finished butterbeer emphatically. "Who always keeps us well stocked with sweets."

"To us and the end of Exams!"


End file.
